


Silk

by MmeSatan



Series: Surveillance [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, Soft Papa Emeritus II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmeSatan/pseuds/MmeSatan
Summary: Papa returns from tour to find a lovely creature in his bed.





	Silk

The tour was over and Papa was glad to be coming back home. He loved touring, but after several weeks of road and rituals he was exhausted and really needed the rest. He walked to his room undisturbed; it was very late and even the nocturnal crowd had found their way into one room or another.

 

He unlocked the door to his quarters and went in quietly. A single table lamp was lit in the empty office; a similar gentle glow came from under the door to his bedroom, which he entered next. Beatrice was there, lying on her side on the bed, one hand under the pillow and the other holding the bedsheets to her chest. She was sound asleep, and though he had missed physical contact, he decided not to wake her up at this time; he too wished to sleep. He could have her in the morning.

 

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her rest, and removed his jacket and waistcoat, placing them on the mattress. He was about to do the same with his tie, but was interrupted by a stirring behind him. He looked back to see Beatrice crawling up to him, her lips curled up in a soft smile. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and asked in a quiet voice, “Please, Papa? Let me?” He let go of the tie and nodded silently, not trusting himself with words in that moment.

 

Her chest brushed against his back as she began to loosen and undo the knot. He leaned back on her, giving her better access to remove the tie, soon placed carefully on top of the discarded clothes. Her hands came back over him to unbutton his shirt, starting at the collar and working her way down as he hummed appreciatively.

 

Before her, Papa would never have allowed anyone to do such an intimate thing as undressing him -- but with her, well, everything was different. He could feel her reverence in the way she let her fingers trail across his chest, in the care with which she slid the shirt off his arms, in the light brush of her lips on his shoulders before she moved away. Was it that ghosting touch or the sudden absence of her heat on his back that made him shiver?

 

Kneeling at his feet to untie his shoes, Beatrice looked so quiet, so submissive. He could finally have a good look at her, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. She was wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and cotton panties; her hair was messy and her eyes still small and sleepy. She should have looked ordinary, but he found her stunning.

 

His shoes removed, she moved between his legs to undo his belt. He stopped her as she was about to do the same to his pants. “You,” he said in a low voice, “are wearing entirely too much clothes. Up.” She did as she was told and, staring at the floor, began to lift her shirt.

 

“Tut-tut, eyes up, cara.” She blushed and looked at him, finally removing the offending piece of cloth that covered her body.

 

“You weren’t so sheepish about undressing the other night.” There was a cold tone in his voice that sent shivers down her spine. He stood up and closed the distance between them, staring sharply into her eyes. “Papa, I…” she whispered.

 

He slowly shook his head, firmly grabbing the back of her neck, and spoke directly into her ear: “Do you have any idea what your little _stunt_ did to me? Do you?” She shook her head and he pulled away.

 

“Bed, now,” he growled.

 

So Beatrice sat on the edge of the bed, legs closed, hands on her lap, visibly nervous. Papa walked up to her and brought his lips to her cheek, whispering onto her skin: “I have been thinking about this for weeks, bella mia.” His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist, holding it loosely. “Have you?” He moved her hands to her sides, then returned his to her hips, sliding two fingers between her skin and the black cotton covering it. “Have you been thinking about me? About this?” She bit her lip and nodded.

 

He took a step back and pulled her underwear down, throwing it to the floor. Spreading her legs, he stood between them and ran his fingers up her thighs as she drew a sharp breath. His left hand cupped her cheek and angled her face toward his. “Did you really think you could tease me like that and get away with it?”

 

She shook her head again. “No, Papa.” Her voice was small, uncertain.

 

His was dark and low, assertive. “Never again, do you hear me?”

 

She swallowed, hard. “Yes, Papa. I’m sorry, Papa.”

 

He released her head, satisfied with her answer. “Good.”

 

He made her lie down on the bed, facing him. She watched him intently biting her lip when he removed his pants, quickly kicking them to the side; he did not wear anything underneath. He climbed in the bed to join her, settling between her spread legs. He ran his hands over her arms, and could not help a slight smile when he felt goosebumps. Bending down, he pressed a series of kisses on her neck and collarbone; as he rose back, he noticed that her breathing was heavier. He grazed her skin with his fingernails, leaving white trails on her thighs and breasts. Her arousal was apparent and her wide eyes were pleading for more of his touch, any amount that he was willing to give her. With a light grasp on her hips, he brought her closer to him: “No more teasing, cara.”

 

His first thrust made her slide back on the silk sheets. He grinned, an idea obviously forming in his mind. Adjusting his angle, and tightening his grip on her hips, he pushed her away from him, just enough so that his cock was almost out, and pulled her back in. She gasped at the unexpected motion, but he repeated it: the push of her body as teasingly slow as the pull was hard and sudden. At first, he did not keep a steady pace, enjoying the way her hips jerked and her mouth opened every time he touched bottom. But as his need grew, they fell into a syncopated rhythm. He watched her, relishing in the sight before him -- arched back, head tilted to the side, lips parted and eyes closed, her silky skin gliding effortlessly on the green silk beneath her.

 

He had it in mind to play it as detached as possible, his anger about the incident from a few weeks prior still strong, but Beatrice always had such an ability to melt his resolve. He found it especially hard to resist her when, like now, she was moaning, pleading for him.

 

“Oooooh, Papa.” Suddenly, her tightness around his cock wasn't enough: he needed all of her, now. He let go of her hips and shifted his weight to bring his lips down to hers, claiming them in a rough, possessive and hungry kiss.

 

Now done with his torturously slow pace, he started hammering into her fast and deep. She responded enthusiastically by wrapping her legs around him tightly and letting out needy sounds that awakened something deep within him. His lips pulling away from hers, he dragged his lips down her jaw, her neck, and stopped at the tender skin right above her collarbone. He pressed a kiss there, gentle, despite his hard thrusts, then bit her without warning. She screamed at the sharp sensation, but was soon moaning again. He grinned against the flushed skin; that bite was sure to leave a mark in the morning.

 

He kept thrusting into her and kissing her offered flesh as she begged him for more: “Papa, please, _please…_ ” and he obliged, his nose still pressed on her shoulder.

 

“You are _mine_ ,” he said in a low growl, “mine and mine only. No one else’s.” He gripped her wrists and pushed them into the mattress, a litany of _mine, mine, mine_ pouring out of his lips onto her soft skin.

 

Her hips pushed against him, eager, greedy, as she joined his voice with her own chant of: “Yes, yes, _please_ , Papa, _please_ , I’m so close, please don’t stop.” Hearing that admission stirred some primal part of him and he found himself biting her again, harder this time on the other shoulder. He could feel her control faltering under his touch.

 

“Do you want to come, cara?” He whispered in her ear. She nodded in response, but that was never enough for Papa.

 

“Well, do you?” He repeated, going back to a kneeling position, slowing down his pace to a near stop. She stared at him with wide eyes and he stared back, his intense look demanding an answer. It came in a small, pleading voice: “Please make me come, Papa, I need it, you, so bad, please?”

 

“Good girl.” His voice was deep and hungry, but there was also a hint of pride in his tone.

 

He started to move again with strong, deep strokes, and reached for her clit with his thumb. Beatrice’s head was thrown back, and she was grabbing the silk sheets, her loud moans resonating in the large bedroom and betraying her fervor. Papa could feel his orgasm building, but he focused on her, increasing the stimulation until he felt she couldn’t take more. She looked thoroughly debauched under him, strands of damp hair sticking to her brow, lips parted, eyes struggling to stay open, holding on to his back slick with sweat, as her hips rose to meet his. “Come for me, bella.” She did with an ecstatic look on her face, her jaw dropped in a silent scream and her head rolled back. He kept thrusting through her orgasm as she clung to him with her legs, his own soon following.

 

Collapsed on top of Beatrice, nuzzling her neck, Papa was savoring the moment. He enjoyed how soft and warm she was, how sweet she smelled, and moving felt like a terrible idea. Then, he felt her chest move under him. “Are you… laughing?” he grunted. He looked up at her face to see that she was indeed holding back a laugh. His pride wounded, he motioned to get up and leave, but she grabbed his hand to stop him. She ran her thumb over his skin, a content smile on her face; the warm, confident tone of her voice that Papa secretly adored was back when she finally said: “I missed you, too.”

 

\----------------------

 

The sun was peeking from the edges of the curtains. Papa was awake, despite the early hour and lack of sleep. Beatrice was sleeping, curled up against him. He sighed, content, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She looked so calm, so peaceful, so beautiful in the soft morning light. He could look at her like that for hours.

 

And there it was again, that warm, buzzing feeling in his chest. He would never let her know about it, but he no longer tried to fight it. It was… good. It was comforting. It was Home. He kissed her brow, closed his eyes and, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest, went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's a thing I wrote.
> 
> Many thanks to the ever amazing rubrikate for editing my smut and making sure it wasn't a cringefest.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! <3


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